From gridiron glory to WWII legend

The USS Strong (DD 467), a WWII destroyer sunk by a Japanese
torpedo in July 1943 in the Battle for Kula Gulf, has been located on the
Pacific seafloor by the Research Vessel Petrel. The wreck serves as a watery
grave for at least 46 U.S. Navy Sailors. Its discovery has rekindled a uniquely
American story of remarkable resiliency, grit, fearlessness and resolve.

The story of Lt. Hugh Miller and the USS Strong is best told
in Stephen Harding’s “The Castaway’s War: One Man’s Battle Against Imperial
Japan.” Decades ago it was the subject of a Life Magazine article and “This is
Your Life” episode, hosted by a young Ronald Reagan.

If you haven’t heard of the USS Strong or its famed
crewmember before, you probably will soon. A production company has acquired rights
to his story and a major movie is reportedly in the works. Its leading man is
out of central casting.

Born in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, to a well-to-do family, a young
Hugh Barr Miller was especially active. He spent considerable time as an
adolescent hunting, fishing, trapping and generally being an outdoorsman on an
expansive estate his family owned in Mississippi. His fitness in the field paid
life-saving dividends later in the war, but proved highly beneficial even
before that.

A hometown hero, the 140-lbs. Miller played for the Alabama
Crimson Tide football team, and even started two games as quarterback. The Tide
went undefeated in 1930, and won the famed Rose Bowl over Washington State in
1931 by a score of 24-0. The Crimson Tide were named national champions.

After college, he went on to begin a career in law, until
joining the Navy in support of the mounting war effort. Stuck stateside in
Florida assigned to a staff position, he would bump into Navy Cmdr. Joseph H.
Wellings. Wellings was on his way to assume command of the
soon-to-be-commissioned USS Strong (DD 467), being built in Bath, Maine. After
some convincing and cajoling by Miller, Wellings saw to it that the
lawyer-would-be-surface-warfare-officer would join the wardroom.

The ship commissioned in August 1942, and Miller would serve
as the 20 mm and stores officer. His posting was topside on the flying bridge.
His role in battle was to direct the aim of the anti-aircraft gunners against
attacking aircraft. A college-level quarterback, he had a keen eye for blitzing
foes, and could quickly yet effectively communicate to his teammates where to
focus their aim – while under fire. Besides, his fellow crewmembers would not
let him forget his ‘glory days,’ affectionately nicknaming him “Rose Bowl.”

USS Strong had an impressive, but short, service record. She
earned three WWII battle stars for action in the consolidation of the Solomon
Islands, the New Georgia Rendova-Vangunu Occupation, and destroying RO-43. She
had less than one year of active service.

Ultimately, her end came on July 5, 1943. American forces
were landing at Rice Anchorage supported by Strong, USS Honolulu, USS Helena,
USS St. Louis, and USS O’Bannon. They were headed for Kula Gulf to shell
Japanese shore installations. Strong and Nicholas entered the harbor and opened
fire not long after midnight. The burst lasted about ten minutes. Minutes after
the salvo, Strong was struck by an enemy Long Lance torpedo. The successful
torpedo strike is thought to be from one of the greatest distances ever in
warfare.

Within a few minutes, Strong was listing and going down.
Surrounded by darkness, and in the heat of enemy and friendly fire from ships
and shore bombardment, things appeared desperate. In a bold move, the USS
Chevalier (DD 451) rammed Strong. The crews cast nets and lines over the two
co-mingled ships to effect a deck-to-deck rescue. The abandon ship order was
given on Strong. In approximately
seven minutes, under chaotic, hazardous conditions, with enemy submarines
lurking, in the firing range of hostile enemy bases, and explosions all around,
234 enlisted men and seven officers, about three-quarters of the ship’s
company, made it across onto Chevalier. As enemy fire rained in, the Chevalier
pulled away.

Strong, possibly splitting in two, was slipping below the
surface. As Strong became awash, her depth charges exploded, killing and
injuring some of the Sailors in the water. The blasts were so powerful they
rendered Chevalier’s radars and sound gear useless.

Miller, who was working to disentangle a few Sailors from
netting on the Strong’s deck was unable to get to the Chevalier before they
withdrew, and slipped unharmed into the water. He was not so fortunate once the
Strong’s armed depth charges exploded. He incurred significant internal
injuries.

He awoke on a float net with a small number of Sailors. He
drifted in and out of consciousness for days, until their group landed on
Arundel Island. Once marooned there, it became clear his condition was
hindering the group’s options. He ordered the three surviving Sailors to leave
him and seek refuge and rescue. Given his grave condition, he even provided his
boots to one of them.

Armed Japanese squads were patrolling the island, and
despite his injuries and days of malnutrition and dehydration, he was able to
evade being discovered. He assumed he would succumb to his injuries, but he
fought to survive. At one point, while hidden, he watched as one Japanese
soldier stepped directly over his position. As his luck held out and his
physical condition stabilized, his hopelessness began to ebb.

Fortune smiled on him again when the body of a dead Japanese
soldier washed ashore. Miller recovered a grenade, bayonet and even some moldy
but edible rice. He put each to good use. He ate coconuts to sustain himself.
During a rainstorm, he was able to retain water in a small tin he possessed.

As the days wore on, his health actually improved, and he
was emboldened with a rejuvenated determination. Using guerilla warfare
tactics, he waged a one-man war against the enemy. In the next few weeks, he
killed as many as 15 Japanese according to accounts, using captured bayonets
and grenades. He attacked three Japanese machine gun nests. Some of his
remarkable success throwing grenades might be attributed to his University of
Alabama quarterback experience. His younger days spent outdoors in Mississippi
as a tireless sportsman clearly proved vital in evading capture and surviving
in the elements – injuries notwithstanding.

After 39 days on the island, he was finally re-united with
U.S. forces and provided important intelligence regarding Japanese positions on
the island.

Miller was awarded the Navy Cross, personally bestowed on
him by Eleanor Roosevelt who was on a Pacific swing with the American Red
Cross.

For his war service he was awarded the Navy Cross, two
Silver Stars, six Bronze Stars, two Purple Hearts, and 27 other individual and
unit decorations. He retired as a Navy Captain before passing away in 1978.

He is not the first citizen from Alabama to make his mark on the Navy and nation. In fact there have been at least 34 ships named for the state or its residents. Today, the submarine USS Alabama (SSBN 713) quietly prowls the seas.

The story of Lt. Hugh Barr Miller is one story, however, that deserves Hollywood treatment. The producers will have their hands full giving it justice. It seems the Navy tried years ago in this dramatization.

As our nation finds itself in a great power competition with
China and Russia the waters in the Pacific are increasingly uncertain. His
example is one Sailors should know, and strive to honor if they are ever called
upon by our nation.